Amber
by Madelen
Summary: After being arrested by the police, Amber is forced to move to her shop. She reflects about her past which she has to leave behind. rated M because it's Shadowrun...


Side-story of one Shadowrun adventure some friends and I once played. My thanks go to Elektra and (as usually) Sepultros who betaed and commented it.  
ABJ meaning "American Born Japanese".

Amber is mine. Don't touch her.

* * *

Amber

She was cold and dizzy when she woke up in the early morning hours before sunrise. At first, she didn't know where exactly she had been sleeping that night. The lights from the advertisements in the street were the only ones shining – and those were not even bright enough to illuminate the street itself. She was not home, that much was clear.

And then the memories struck her like a lightning bolt, even make her head ache slightly. In a desperate attempt to keep it at bay, she pressed her thumbs onto her temples. But from the way the headache had invaded her brains, she already knew that it would stick today. Amber eyes were blinking into the shadows – of her own shop, as that was the place where she had been forced to move to yesterday. Her flat surely had been ruined by some officers by now and surely still was observed by the police.

"Damn!", she hissed into the darkness. That flat had really meant something to her, had stood for the culture she had grown into. Why the hell had her party stepped into that obvious trap, why hadn't they separated before entering the building? Bloody newbies they had been. But well, what was the use in crying over spilled milk? She had to get a new ID-stick and new weapons and both of it quickly, then had to get a new flat, which had to wait a little.

She had to leave Sakura Kikaiko behind, which hurt a lot but was the most necessary. At least, the few traces that were left of her Japanese past would not lead the police anywhere useful for them, she had made sure that nothing could connect her to the small garage in little Tokyo, called „Metal Tiger" in Japanese. This was the very reason for her still having the shop to stay at, which was quite something considering the situation she was in. Fortunately, she looked more European than most of her current teammates – she certainly **was** more European than every single one of them, but she did not at all act like the casual little or big fish from the shadows. Ever so polite, ever so quiet, ever so damned boring...

"I have to change! First dye my hair back to a brighter color, perhaps even dark blond..." She shivered ever so slightly when imagining her hair being **blond**. "Then wear different shades of gray, coal, granite and so on, instead of all black. And finally, behave like an American girl, not like a bloody ABJ!"

She should do something else as well, something that would certainly hurt a lot more than dyeing her hair – both literally and figuratively. Too many people, police officers, other runners, their former "boss", had seen her tattoo – or at least the tiny piece of it that showed in her neck. And she would certainly **not** grow her hair only to cover it up, even if that was the less complicated option. No, she would change the tattoo, the whole thing on her back. Sakura had died last night, so the cherry blossoms on her back would have to face summer now – and die as well.

Her sign was the tiger, Chinese astrology was "chic" those days, and most people could not tell Chinese from Japanese... With the tiger covering her whole back, only the tip of the tail would be visible in her neck and some black outlines were far less of an eye catcher than a pink cherry blossom was.

She started to curse under her breath, but not being used to any harsh language, the only thing that left her mouth was a litany of "damned bloody hell" which she repeated over and over. As she realized that cursing and pacing the room would not cool her down at all, she turned to an office box stuffed onto her workbench, which contained the only things she had wanted – and been able – to save from her flat. If she had to live in her shop, no matter how temporarily, her games should better be running on her working computer as well – or else she would just freak out! As usual did the technical work finally catch her entirely and eventually cool her down.

"Amber? You up already? 's half past seven in the mornin'!", the tired voice had come from the door to the tiny office room at the back of her shop. It belonged to the one teammate who didn't have any other place than her flat – which now meant no place at all. Amber had, politely as ever, suggested that she could stay with her. After all, the garage had two rooms and there even was a shower next to the office room she used as a tearoom. She made a short mental note about changing that room's interior as well, it was kind of treacherous to have a Japanese style room in her workplace, even if the latter was situated in little Tokyo.

"Mornin' Elektra." A heartfelt little smile curved her lips when she looked up at the dark skinned woman with the short curly hair who looked even sleepier than her voice had sounded. "Slept well?"

"Yeah, thanks. 't was really quiet here and the room's darker than any place I've ever slept at. 'm not used to it."

"If it disturbs you, you could sleep in here..."

"Nah, 'm fine with that. 's nice to sleep through the night again. But why are **you** up already?"

"I'm not too sure about it. Guess, I was just angry of myself. I mean, we **should** have seen this coming."

"But we didn'." was Elektra's answer. "No use cryin'..."

"...over spilled soy milk, I know."

Elektra's smile about that last comment was genuine and for the first time since they had started to work together, Amber realized how cheerful Elektra was, something you certainly didn't expect finding in a runner. Still, it felt right, and even more so as she always managed to soothe Amber's own moods.

"Who'd have guessed Tempest'd get us out."

"Who would have guessed Tempest was a **cop**..."

"I did.", Elektra replied and Amber believed her at the instant. "But he's so cute... I couldn't tell you. Not yet... Don't you think he's cute?"

"Well, he's a little young, you know. And I'm more into the Asian type."

Elektra, who had already boiled some water for instant coffee, passed her a mug filled with hot dark brown liquid that certainly contained caffeine – but nothing else similar to real coffee. At her comment, the other runner raised an eyebrow and gave her a puzzled look: "But they are small – and so..."

"Androgynous? Well, there **are** some tall men and I think the androgynous look is exactly what I like about them."

"Long hair then, too?" Elektra seemed to become curious about the whole thing now.

"The longer – and the darker – the better!"

Another smile showed on Elektra's lips, but this one was a predatory one. Amber violently shook her head: "Oh **no**! Don't try to find **me** a guy! He'd only be in my way... and for the fun, well, I have some **devices** for **that**. And by the way, the only guy I would be interested in is a ninja working for the Yakuza."

Elektra's eyes grew wide: "You know a **ninja** workin' for the **Yakuza**?!"

"Well, how exactly do you suppose a girl like me becomes a runner? I have been living in a Japanese quarter for my whole life, I was raised by two people whose relatives were Yakuza. The only person who is left of my family now is my cousin – who is working for them as well, just in case you hadn't noticed yet."

"But a **ninja**?!"

"My father did usually not deal with Yakuza, but when I started working with him and it became obvious that I had somewhat of a talent with mechanics, my aunt and uncle sent their colleagues to **me** – father had no choice than to deal with this, so he taught me how to cope best with each and every situation. They didn't send me anything impossible to solve, but the more I knew the harder the tasks became.

And then, on the day after I had finally graduated in mechanics, a young man, about five years older than me, walked into the shop pushing his Enduro inside and telling me to fix it. He was very polite, but it was obvious that I had to fix it at the instant. He even wanted to wait in the shop. And that was when, for the first time in my life, I flushed...

Fortunately, father led the young man into the tearoom and as soon as I could concentrate on the motorbike, the owner was nearly forgotten again..."

Amber paused to take another sip of her coffee. Elektra was amazed, she had never heard Amber talk that long before. And **that** personal, too... But none of them had ever talked about their private lives before. After all, they were teammates, not college roommates. Still, Elektra had been missing exactly that kind of talk, and even knew that until now she had been the only one to constantly show her real personality to the other women.

"And, had you fixed the bike in time?"

"Of course. I found the problem with the self-starter and fixed it in about an hour. I'm even sure he did not expect me to make it in time although I am not too sure about what 'in time' would have meant. But he seemed to be satisfied with the result as he came back regularly."

"And...?"

"Nothing... I do not even think he considers me to be more than a mechanic."

"You ain't no simple **mechanic**, woman!"

"Tell him... I mean, he is a **real** runner and even though I do not know too much, the stories I **have** heard about him are just amazing..."

"He got a girl?"

"I am not sure, but he would not have the time for one."

"So there's hope..." Again, Elektra smiled this wicked little smile of hers.

"What for? I will not die a virgin, be assured of that."

"I didn't s'pose nothin' else! But, you know, 'tis romantic! Don't think stuff like this happens often these days."

"Romantic?" Amber did not believe her ears. The flirtations between Elektra and Tempest, **that** was romantic. Her own story with Ghost was fateful or perhaps even less, a mere customer-mechanic-relation. She did not know. But she admitted to herself, if to no one else, that sometimes she wished something to happen. Like him killing her because she knew too much, or simply accidentally... then realizing what he had done and committing harakiri in her dying arms. **That** would be romantic.

She smiled: "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it would be a romantic story..."

After they had had another coffee, Amber asked: "Would you help me dyeing my hair?"

"Sure!" came Elektra's prompt reply, and Amber had the feeling that this "sure" bore more than just an answer to her question. It was an answer to questions none of them would ever pose... still the answer to all of them was "sure".


End file.
